The Reason That I Laugh and Breathe
by Ms Morpheus
Summary: A different take on FemShepxGarrus. Shepard attempts to bridge the cultural divide and comfort the turian she secretly loves, succeeding in a way neither of them expected.
1. Chapter 1

**Ever notice how in a lot of fics (my own included), Garrus is attracted to Shepard despite how different they are physically and physiologically? Or how in matters of romance and sexuality, he's often depicted as functionally humanoid? That was just an observation, not a criticism – I love all those awesome Garrus fics. Moar plz.**

**This is my attempt to explore their bond while trying not to anthropomorphize the turian, and to envision how Shepard might try to comfort him before the suicide mission without really knowing how. Shepard's appearance is deliberately nondescript – imagine her however you wish. **

**Anything you recognize from Mass Effect belongs to Bioware. The title is from the ee cummings poem 'you being in love'.**

* * *

"I just want something to go right. Just once…"

Before those words stunned her into silence, she'd wanted to grin at him, tease him, push all the right buttons to bring out that deep flanging belly laugh she loved so much. Damn, she missed seeing him smile. But this wasn't about _her_, and it would take so much more than lighthearted banter to make him happy. It was getting harder by the day to remember the scarred turian the way he'd once been, youthful and impulsive, eyes burning with passion as he followed her eagerly in pursuit of justice. Now he looked so much older, hardened by the years that would forever be lost to her, still fighting tirelessly by her side even though the look in his eyes said he had nothing left to give.

Not knowing what to say, Shepard closed her eyes as taloned fingers traced her shoulder, their razor-sharp edges threatening to tear the thin fabric of her uniform. There was tenderness in his touch, hesitation as he leaned in to press his forehead to hers. His brow plates were hot and thrummed with the beat of his heart, racing from anxiety and, dare she hope, excitement?

She lingered there, savoring the warmth of his gentle touch, inhaling his exotic scent. She'd waited so long for this, suffering exquisitely as their soldiers' bond matured into close friendship and then into something else entirely. No word in any human or turian language seemed to describe what she felt for him: respect and love underscored by illogical, undeniable lust. She'd die for him. In a way, she already had.

"Tell me what you need, Shepard. I… I tried to do some research, but the human vids were all so different, and I'm not sure half of it is even possible for me. Not without killing you, anyway. I really don't know what to do."

Slowly, she opened her eyes, relieved to finally see an expression that was neither anger nor deadened apathy. The poor man was terrified. Under other circumstances, Shepard would have laughed to put him at ease, but he looked as though he might shatter into pieces if she did. So she smiled, reaching up to mimic his gesture of chaste affection by stroking his upper arm.

"It's okay, Garrus. I'm just glad to have your company. That's all I need."

He exhaled sharply, his posture relaxing. "Ancestors be praised. I'd do anything for you, Shepard, you know that. I've never met anyone like you, never felt this way about anyone but you… I'm just not used to _flesh_."

Garrus' nasal ridges crinkled slightly, his disgust a subtle remnant of a war that even now strained relations between their species. An icy claw gripped her heart, its sharp nails slowly digging in. Shepard forced herself to put on a mask of serenity, faking acceptance and understanding until it started to take hold, gradually appeasing the pain in her chest. Tonight her foolish emotions didn't matter: she wanted to give her best friend the love and release he so desperately needed before once again following her into the abyss.

"I'm confused, Shepard. I thought you needed me to ease your tension before the battle. What exactly were you asking me to do?"

Of course he was confused. She'd done her homework, followed up on the comments she'd assumed to be flirtatious. Her clumsy attempts to invite intimate companionship must have come across as a request to scratch an itch. Like her own kind, turians used sex as recreation and stress relief, but risked grievous injury if they took matters into their own hands. Talons, rather. So self-love was generally avoided, and relations between friends and shipmates were as casual and frequent as humans having a round of drinks to blow off steam. Being cloistered aboard an alien ship must have been as isolating and frustrating as joining an ascetic convent. Even the sensual joys of food were lost to him: despite her best efforts the dextro rations were sorely lacking in flavor and variety.

"I should explain. I don't need anyone else to ease my tension." Her cheeks flushed, her body still tingling from her earlier exertions. Garrus' mandibles flared in surprise. Shepard's scent was so different, sweet and musky, currents of pheromones swirling in the air as she moved. He'd assumed she was reacting to _him_, and wasn't sure whether to be intrigued or offended. "I'm not a turian woman; I can't be your lover in the way you're used to. I'd like to extend an invitation. No expectations, no hurt feelings if you turn me down."

"Just when I think I'm starting to understand you, Shepard, you surprise me again. What do you have in mind?"

"Spend the night with me. Relax with me. I picked up some wildberry liqueur and some dextro amino snacks when we docked at the Citadel. Later, if you're willing, I could try to heal you." She laughed, the light bubbly sounds resonating in his aural conduits. "Don't ask me what that means until you've had a few drinks."

Were he a good, sensible turian, Garrus would have politely taken his leave. Maybe one day he'd look back and wonder what might have happened if he'd taken the barefaced creature up on her enigmatic offer. But a sensible Garrus would never have left his post at C-Sec, tagged along with a rogue Spectre as she hunted down criminals, and certainly would never have been so profoundly affected by the death of a human that he nearly destroyed himself trying to carry out her legacy. The ordeal had left him badly wounded, and the kindness and certainty in her eyes as she spoke of healing were balm to his aching soul.

"Okay. Sure. Why the hell not?"

"I'll just need a minute, I'm going to get changed. I don't want anything to do with Cerberus tonight," she said, fingering the logo on her uniform. "Make yourself comfortable and I'll be right back."

Comfortable? While in Citadel space, he had to force his long flexible limbs into asari furnishings. They'd arrived first, after all, and the salarians had no complaints about the standardized sizing. This human ship was no different: the beds were too short, the chairs too small, and there was nothing to provide the necessary cushioning for his cowl, his prominent spurs and ridges. Garrus had too much history with Shepard to worry about offending her, so he set about rearranging her cabin. He ripped the comforter and cushions from her bed and the throw pillows from her couch, and found them sufficient to build himself a proper nest on the floor. Delighted, he sprawled, tucking a plump cylindrical pillow behind his neck so that his fringe didn't scrape the ground.

Shepard emerged from the bathroom to find a purring turian rolling around on her bedcovers. She couldn't help but giggle as she moved to uncork the berry liqueur and a bottle of ice brandy. Fine silk pyjamas covered her from collarbones to ankles, concealing her alien skin with sensual fabric.

Garrus watched her hips sway as she made her way over to him, filled glasses in hand. He wondered whether she was planning to seduce him, and was surprised to discover he was only somewhat troubled by the notion. He'd heard the rumors about humans, of course: a surprising number of men in his old regiment claimed to have a friend who'd been to one of their brothels. No self-respecting male would admit to experiencing it personally, but bawdy tales of the acts they were capable of made for great late-night storytelling. That is, if you could stomach the thought of soft, pliant flesh. Shepard was not so soft, he'd noticed: ropy muscles and strong bones lay just beneath her skin. His eye was drawn to her sharp clavicles as she drew nearer, folding her legs daintily underneath her as she sat beside him on the floor and offered him a drink.

"And to think I was worried you'd have trouble relaxing."

"It's not _my_ fault my quarters are the size of a closet."

"Mmm. Cerberus certainly didn't have turians in mind when they designed this ship. We'll have to remedy that after the mission."

"Are you so sure we're going to make it through tomorrow?"

"As sure as I ever am." She grinned. "We're still here, aren't we?"

"You died."

"It takes more than death to kill me," she said haughtily. "Hey, do you remember the conversation we had back on the old ship, about prisoners getting to request a last meal before their execution?" Garrus had been horrified to learn humans used to kill their criminals. It was such a waste of lives that could be put to better use in forced labor or military service. Once they'd gotten past that, though, they'd spent hours giddily discussing their own perfect last meal, trying to one-up each other by making their alien foods sound as disgusting as possible.

"Yeah." He closed his eyes, lost in wistful remembrance of biting into ripe kirin-fruit, the juices running down his mandibles and staining his shirt as warm ocean breezes tickled the grooves between his plates.

"I have a surprise for you. Not that I'm implying anything morbid about the mission, but I figured we both deserved a treat."

She retrieved two refrigerated storage cases she'd acquired on the Citadel, and set the controls to bring the contents to their desired temperatures. She'd picked them up only a few days ago, intending to return for enough to feed the whole crew before their sudden abduction meant there was no longer time for frivolities. Garrus tore into his like he was disassembling his favorite sniper rifle, and he soon had a banquet spread around him of Palaven fruits, pungent-smelling raw and cured meats, candied insectoids, and the exorbitantly expensive piece de resistance, a box of writhing sea-creatures that the shopkeeper had simply called "crunch". He went right for these, gingerly picking up his protesting prey with the tips of his talons and popping them into his mouth with gusto. Shepard's stomach did a backflip as the shells cracked to release green ooze, dozens of tiny pincers twitching menacingly even in the throes of death.

Unpacking her own parcel of delicacies, she ignored the happily munching turian to take in the heavenly aroma of freshly baked bread, chocolate, strawberries, fresh cream (from an actual cow, not the vat-grown udders that left an odd metallic aftertaste), blini with caviar, and her own favorite indulgence, guaranteed to make Garrus cringe. It had taken a good deal of investigative work, but she'd managed to find cultured oysters from Eden Prime, keeping them alive in her saltwater fish tank. The feast had cost a small fortune, but under the circumstances she couldn't care less. Garrus' horrified expression as she slurped down the succulent briny bivalves was more than worth their price.

Bellies full to bursting, they stretched lazily on the comforter. Garrus' bottle was half-empty by the time he finished his meal, and the warm buzz was gradually eroding the barriers he'd worked so hard to keep up. He found himself rambling about the great joys and disappointments of his life, reminiscing about his childhood on Palaven, his military service and C-Sec missions, and finally the pain of losing his squad on Omega and hitting rock bottom. Shepard sat back and listened, feeling an empathetic knot build in her heart as Garrus relayed his tragic tale, his deep voice wavering as the story ended with a lone gunman preparing to fight to the death against impossible odds.

"Spirits, Shepard. I've never told anyone about this. Did you put something in my drink?"

"No. But I'm here to listen if you need me. Whenever you need me."

He looked down at the glass that had somehow emptied itself yet again, tracing a talon absentmindedly around the rim. "Is this an appropriate time to ask what you meant by healing?"

"I suppose so. This may be difficult to explain. I have… certain abilities. I didn't really understand them myself until I met Sha'ira: she shares my gift."

"You're still not making any sense, Shepard."

"Right. It turns out some of us biotics are in tune with other kinds of energy as well. In turian terms… I may be able to heal your spirit, if you let me. Help you embrace eternity. I'll have to come a little closer."

He eyed her warily, nodding his assent as he decided this wasn't a joke at his expense. Shepard sat in his lap, nimbly wrapping her legs around his waist, arms draped over his shoulders. He hadn't been this close to a female in far too long, yet her touch was gentle and reassuring, and the look her eyes asked for nothing in return.

"I don't know what to do, Shepard."

"Breathe, Garrus. Just breathe." And so he did.

Softly, slowly, Shepard increased her awareness, noticing the rise and fall of the turian's thorax, the warmth of exhaled air against her cheek, the hardness of his thigh plates beneath her strong legs. Matching his every breath, she inhaled more deeply, turning the attention of her mind's eye to the rhythms of her own body. She'd never attempted such a connection with a turian before, but her earlier meditations left her in fine form, at peace with herself and the universe, energy flowing freely. Not wanting to startle him, she opened her palms to show him the faint biotic charge. With a feather-light touch, she ran her fingertips from the crown of his head down to the tips of his fringe, gliding along his neck and collar, shoulders and arms, guiding her energy down to the tips of his talons. She brought her hands up for a second pass, this time tracing down over his brow, running her thumbs along his nasal ridges and down over his mouth and mandibles, eliciting a contented sigh as she grazed his vulnerable throat before moving down over his heart and thorax, across his waist and back again to his wrists and hands to complete the circle.

Without any prompting, he reciprocated her movements, her sensitive skin alight with the gentle brush of his talons. Taking Garrus' hands in her own, she began to draw his energy into her, returning it with each exhalation. He was as tense and rigid as she'd expected, but was lulled by the waves resonating through his tissues, deepening his own breath in response. Shepard placed her right hand over his heartbeat, her other hand covering his as he reached up to mirror her. A pleasant tingly sensation spread through her as their rhythm intensified, swaying back and forth, breathing in and out as the distinctions between them began to blur. With Garrus, creating the link was nearly effortless: she was rapidly losing herself in his energy. The pull was almost too strong: his spirit drew her in with magnetic intensity. She opened her eyes to see the turian enveloped in soft blue light: the whole room was hazy except for Garrus' striking gaze piercing her soul.

They bonded, their shared energy building with every breath, and Shepard felt pain and pressure building in her heart as she let down the last of her barriers and embraced her partner's suffering. Such a horrible burden for him to carry alone, she thought, but together they just might be able to set it free. They fell further into a shared trance, losing all sense of time and self, feeling at one with the universe as they embraced eternity. All at once, Shepard became acutely aware of her body as the knot in her heart opened in violent release, tearing through her chest in a brief moment of agony that left pure bliss in its wake. Big. Cosmic. Ecstasy.

Garrus collapsed against her, burying his face in her neck. She threw her arms around his cowl, wrapping her legs tight around his waist to soothe and comfort him. Saying nothing, she held him until the glow subsided and at last he spoke.

"What the hell just happened?"

"You were carrying a lot of tension. I offered to help you release it, remember?"

"I had no idea this was what you meant. It worked, by the way."

"I know." She beamed at him as he sat back to stare at her.

"Is it always like this?"

"It's different every time. That was… incredible."

"Mmm." Garrus' mandibles flared in a lazy smile, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

"We could bond again, if you like. I'm also quite skilled at biotic massage, if your muscles need some attention. Don't think I haven't noticed the way you've been rolling your left shoulder lately."

"Unbelievable. Yes. To all of it."

* * *

By the time they reached the Omega-4 relay, the hardened vigilante was nowhere to be found: he'd been carried off into the ether by alternating waves of calm serenity and ecstatic bliss. In his place, burrowed in a warm nest of comforter and pillows, lay a smiling, playful, utterly relaxed turian soldier. They hadn't slept a wink, not wanting to waste a moment of precious time together, but somehow Garrus felt as though he'd never been so well rested.

Garrus gathered the commander into his arms, running his talons through her hair as he tried to understand the significance of what had passed between them. Surely this far exceeded the boundaries of friendship, but nothing they'd experienced was sexual by turian standards, nor human if the vids were to be believed. She made him feel safe, wanted, loved; even if neither of them survived the day he knew that he belonged with her.

Shepard finally had to shoo him out of her quarters as Joker announced their approach to the relay, leaving just enough time to shower and strap into her armor before rallying the team in preparation for the jump. She watched him leave with joy in her heart: she'd never seen Garrus so happy. If only she could suppress the twinge in her chest as the elevator door closed, her selflessness vanishing as the man she loved was carried out of sight. Through it all, she didn't have the courage to tell him how she felt. Cerberus had revived her, but only Garrus could make her feel _alive_. It just didn't seem right to say anything: her gift of peace and unconditional love would be meaningless if she demanded his affection in return. Shepard took comfort from the release she'd given him, and the knowledge that even though the turian was none the wiser, with every breath they'd shared her soul cried out. _I love you. I love you. I love you._


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is (blushing) definitely M rated for sexual content and language. This continues my experiment of trying not to write Garrus as a big spiky human. Here, he tries to reciprocate Shepard's gift in his own way, while Shepard isn't quite the saint she tries to be. If you're looking for a conventional romance, this may not be the chapter for you ("From the Ashes" is more sweet and romantic).**

**Enjoy!**

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* * *

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"Oh come on, Shepard, can't you move any faster? At this rate we'll get back to the Citadel just in time to meet our new Reaper overlords."

She wiped the sweat from her brow, muttering under her breath at the damaged nav module she was trying to coax into functionality. The suicide mission was a miraculous success, but the Normandy was nearly destroyed in the process. Unless they could make her spaceworthy, they'd be unable to make the final relay jump back into friendlier territory.

Garrus' snarky comments were doing little to improve her morale. She couldn't deny that the mission was stressful: the constant threat of losing teammates weighed as heavily on his conscience as on hers. But that didn't excuse all his nasty behavior since: he was constantly at her throat, picking fights over the most trivial issues. Being aboard the Collector ship had changed him, and she couldn't understand why. He seemed positively elated before the mission, as well he should: she'd spent the entire night lavishing him with healing tantric energy until his anger and bitterness melted away. They'd never been closer. It was _his_ voice across the comm link that spurred her forward through the base, confident to the point of cockiness as the crack of his sniper rifle soothed her with its reassuring cadence. Every shot meant he was still alive, and hearing it meant so was she. It was Garrus she trusted to protect her while she took down the Reaper monstrosity, and his strong arms that brought her to safety after she launched herself across the expanding chasm, preparing to fall once again into the clutches of eternity. He pulled her in and held her so tightly she thought he might never let go. So why was he being such an asshole?

"You know, I've managed to recalibrate our entire weapons system in the time you've been poking at that module."

_Stay. Calm._ Taking a deep cleansing breath, Shepard forced herself to focus on happy thoughts. Puppies. Ice cream. Shoving the turian out an airlock.

"Funny, I've never known you to finish your calibrations so fast. Are you going to help me or just make smartass comments all day?"

"Oooh. She thinks I'm smart." He leaned back against a console and crossed his arms, enjoying watching her blood boil.

"Listen. I don't know what the hell has gotten into you, but if you're trying to start a fight it's going to have to wait. Leave me alone, Garrus."

"Suit yourself."

With that, he shrugged his shoulders and set off for the engineering deck. Shepard counted slowly to ten in every language she knew before she was calm enough to return to her frustrating task. She'd have to figure out what Garrus was so bothered about later.

* * *

Humans were such wicked creatures. After all it had taken for him to get through his thick skull that Shepard was a _female_, she was teasing him mercilessly by refusing to give in to his advances. She was just starting to warm up when she'd sent him away. The vicious edge in her voice was unmistakable, and the scent of adrenaline in her bloodstream was driving him crazy. Temptress. He had no idea a human could be so calculating and cruel. Unless, of course, she really didn't understand what he was trying to do. He'd been wrong about her before, more than he wanted to admit even to himself.

Were she turian, he'd long ago have fallen in love with her. That would have been a problem, since a female of her caliber would surely have attracted a far more suitable mate than an impulsive young hothead, or worse, a scarred vigilante. Even now, half the crew threw themselves at her feet. Were she turian, her prowess in battle and ferocity of spirit would have earned her a high position amid the Hierarchy. Instead, she was publicly celebrated by her kind when her actions pleased them, only to be disowned and reviled by even her closest friends at the slightest hint of dishonor. How she could withstand their relentless disrespect without tearing out their throats was beyond him. He'd initially perceived this as weakness, but had come to recognize her resilience as a sign of her unwavering strength. Perhaps the human's true asset was not her power, but her tenacity. What she couldn't overcome, she would simply endure, no matter what it cost her.

From the moment he met her, she alone had always seen the best in him. An exacting mentor, she'd always demanded the best from him. She was his inspiration, his shining beacon in the darkness, and like everyone else he'd fallen into the trap of believing she was invincible. He'd left the Normandy to apply for Spectre training, wanting to impress her, to become tough and fearless like her. When she died, he felt somehow that she'd let him down, let them all down with the revelation that she too could be broken. How selfish that seemed now; the foolish young man he'd been died a long time ago. He understood now that they weren't so different, that what she needed all along was someone she could trust to watch her six. And he'd left her. And then she died.

The Alliance didn't even have the courtesy to tell him in person. He was sitting at his terminal, toiling away at some mind-numbing paperwork when the extranet feed on the side of the screen caught his eye and stopped his heart. "Commander Shepard of the Systems Alliance, first human Spectre and savior of the Citadel, was reported KIA today after an attack from an unidentified enemy ship." Nothing more. In a rare lapse of discipline, he'd locked his office door, hacking the system to chase every lead, find any shred of information that might shed light on what really happened to Shepard.

But there was no information to be found, no clue as to who destroyed the Normandy, or how they'd managed to outgun and outmaneuver the state-of-the-art warship. He was consumed by the need to avenge her: he became irritable and unfocused at work, haunted and tormented at home. As it became clear he might never find her true killer, he began to see fault in all those who contributed in some way to her death. The Alliance, who used her as a symbol to advance their own goals. The Council, who didn't hesitate to send her on increasingly hazardous missions until the inevitable occurred. They'd set her up to fail, but even in death her honor shone through. He couldn't take on the Alliance, or the Council, but he could do his part to carry on her legacy. Criminals, slavers, corrupt politicians and mercenaries: all those who hurt others for their own profit became the objects of his wrath. As his emptiness and helplessness crystallized into a grim sense of purpose, Garrus knew he could never return to C-Sec. Ever since that moment, he dedicated his life to honoring her.

None of these insights could help him to understand Shepard's behavior, nor why she'd approached him for company in the first place. Up to that point she was simply Shepard to him: a fierce warrior, a respected leader, a trusted friend but not an eligible female. It had taken him by surprise when she first suggested blowing off steam together, tripping over his words as he struggled to understand her feelings and his own. He'd been so sure she'd propositioned him for sex, certain to the point of steeling himself to provide her with anything she asked of him. It turned out all she wanted was to make him happy. Surely that was more than he deserved.

It took losing her once for him to see her as she truly was, but it wasn't until he nearly lost her again that he realized what she meant to him. Fighting aboard the Collector base was an exercise in controlled chaos, finishing off each wave of enemies only to face endless reinforcements. There was no time to think, only to react, and certainly no time to muse about what had happened the night before. Together they made it through, and as his feet touched down in the Normandy's airlock he felt giddy, exhilarated. He turned around expecting to see Shepard beside him, only to make the horrifying discovery that she'd been left behind as the base collapsed. From across the void, her gaze met his as she broke into a sprint and made the impossible jump. The realization hit him like a grenade: she trusted him to keep her safe, just as he trusted her. _Catch me, or I'll be lost forever._ She needed a partner, an equal; although it cost him dearly, the last few years made him strong in ways he never imagined possible. He reached out with his arms, his hope, his spirit, locking his talons around her wrist as her vault brought her just short of the Normandy. Pulling her in to safety, he held her tight, her arms encircling his waist to return the embrace, shaking with relief. The airlock sealed and the ship accelerated but he couldn't let go; his talons left marks on her armor as he clutched her to his heart and held on for dear life.

The mission had taken its toll on her, that much was obvious. Not that she ever complained about stress, or let it show in front of the crew. But _he_ could tell: there were subtle changes in her scent, her demeanor. She always had a smile for him, always seemed to enjoy his company even when he was in a dark mood. Not today. For cracks to appear in her tough mental armor, there must be tremendous pressure within. Each day, she gave her all to fight for survival and protect her crew: perhaps at last she had nothing left. She was hurting, and only he seemed to be aware of her pain. She needed him, just as he needed her.

Meditation could only do so much, and the tender methods she'd used to heal him were beyond his abilities. But Garrus knew a thing or two about pain, about the horrors and injustices of life building up until he wanted to scream, to fight, to kill. He made up his mind: he would go to Shepard and release her from her torment, relieve the unbearable tension and return her gift of sweet oblivion.

* * *

Damn it. No matter how hard she tried, Shepard couldn't shake the terrifying images burned into her memory. The piles of civilian corpses, colonists whose only crime was to set off for distant worlds in search of a better life. The girl's terrified expression, screaming helplessly as Reaper enzymes digested her alive. Shepard arrived in the nick of time to save her crew, but that _thing_, that monstrous spawn of Cthulhu was an unshakeable reminder of the countless innocents who died because she failed them. All the hot water in the galaxy couldn't scald her clean, and even the most challenging asanas couldn't begin to quiet her mind and banish her waking nightmares. Sleep was out of the question. She paced around her cabin, kicking at the pillows that lay strewn about from the night before.

The door chimed. "Garrus Vakarian is here to see you," announced EDI.

"Tell him I'm busy. I can't deal with his alpha male bullshit right now. EDI, I don't want to be disturbed for the rest of the night, not unless there's an absolute emergency. Is that clear?"

"Yes, commander. I'll inform him of your wishes."

Immediately Shepard regretted snapping at the AI. EDI was only doing her job, after all, and although she wasn't supposed to have feelings Shepard couldn't help but think of her as sentient. It wasn't like the commander to be sharp, but her patience had been stretched thin by the never-ending crises that awaited her upon reawakening. No "Hey, glad you're alive" celebrations, just problem after problem, anger and suffering, guns and death. Everyone needed something from her, even her closest allies, and all she had left was cold hard pain.

A sudden hiss behind her made Shepard whirl around in a combat stance, instinctively bracing for attack. Garrus had hacked the door, a blatant invasion of her personal space. He held his head high, shoulders back: threatening and dominant.

"I know full well you're not busy."

She was too angry to speak, fighting the urge to lash out and throw him out of her quarters. Locking his gaze with a furious stare, she crept slowly and cautiously toward him, keeping a safe distance as she circled her prey. This was still _her_ ship, and there was no way she'd let anyone push her around. Not even him.

"You need to learn some manners, Garrus."

"You need to trust me, Shepard."

"Get out of my quarters."

"You think I can't tell what you're going through? No one knows you better than I do. You're wound tight as a spring, and no amount of asari voodoo is going to make you feel better."

She muttered under her breath: "You don't know a damn thing about what I'm feeling."

Fast as lightning, he lunged at her, grabbing her by the shoulders and slamming her back against the wall. "I know what you need, Shepard. Fight me."

"I don't want to spar. Leave. Me. Alone."

"Not spar. Fight." He gnashed his teeth to accentuate his point. "I can take anything you have to give, as long as you spare me your biotic attacks. If you think you can handle me, _human_."

Shepard's skin grew diamond-hard as she brought up her defensive barrier, eyes narrowing to angry slits. "You've seen me take a plasma missile at close range, Garrus. You couldn't hurt me if you tried." She was rapidly losing control: his plan was working perfectly. Adrenaline screamed through her veins; her body quivered with bloodlust. Volatile as a cracked grenade, all she needed was a catalyst to set her off.

He kneed her sharply in the abdomen: the swift movement caught her off-guard and knocked the wind out of her. Shepard's last thread of self-restraint snapped: the turian wasn't holding back, so why should she? Falling to her knees, she grabbed his leg spur like a handle and yanked him to the ground, raining knife-edged blows on his tough plating. His talons found her throat, scraping harmlessly against her barrier. They leapt to their feet and unleashed a barrage of vicious strikes, both of them too well armored for any significant damage. Tactics were abandoned, rage the only strategy: she was thrown across the room like a ragdoll, rolling to a crouch to attack anew. He bit her arms as she raked her nails down his fringe. His talons clawed frantically at her delicate flesh, his frenzy mounting when they failed to find purchase. What he lacked in finesse, he made up for in sheer size, using his entire weight to slam her to the floor. Pinned by her massive opponent, she kicked and scratched and bit with the ferocity of a caged animal, screaming out her frustration and anger as he held her down and refused to let go.

Garrus felt Shepard explode beneath him, astonished that such raw passion seethed beneath her calm veneer. Satisfied that he'd accomplished his goal, he slowed his breathing to enjoy the sight of his commander unchained. She fought harder than a rabid varren, wild and feral. She was… sexy as hell. _Spirits._

Her throat raw and body aching, Shepard had run out of rage to expend. As the crimson blur receded from her mind and the world came back into focus, she became aware of the turian's face hovering inches above hers, watching her with an expression she took to be bemusement. The absurdity of the situation sank in and she began to giggle, her whole body soon shaking with uncontrollable laughter. This too ran its course, and she reached up to gently stroke Garrus' mandible.

"I guess it's my turn to ask this time. What just happened?"

He grinned. "I thought you seemed a little tense. Turians don't meditate, we battle."

"Is it always like this?"

"It's different every time. That was incredible, Shepard."

"Mmm. Thanks. I do feel better."

Still trapped underneath him, she expected Garrus to release her. But he wasn't moving, and she felt a frisson as she became aware of one taloned hand pinning her right shoulder, the other firmly grasping her left hip.

"Can I ask you something, Shepard? Do you… find me attractive?"

Her cheeks flushed red, her pulse quickening. "I don't have a turian fetish, if that's what you're asking." She looked up at him, studying his expression and frantically piecing together an appropriate answer. She knew how he felt about humans, but couldn't bring herself to lie outright, not after all they'd been through. "Your spirit is… intense. Captivating. I'm honored to have you in my life."

Garrus bent down to sniff her, eliciting an embarrassed giggle as his hot breath tickled her neck. She couldn't help it: her body was responding to his strong masculine presence, warmth building between her legs as his grip tightened on her flesh. She squirmed uncomfortably: she had to move away from him before he picked up on her increasingly obvious signals. Bringing his face close to hers, he rubbed his brow plates against her forehead, his purr vibrating into her as she tried desperately not to moan.

"Will you have me, Shepard?"

She averted her gaze. "I don't want any man who doesn't desire me." Pity sex from her best friend would be more humiliating than she could bear.

_What?_ The air was thick with his pheromones: how could she not sense his arousal? Could humans really be this clueless? He laughed, a rumbling guttural bass that resonated through her thorax as he leaned in to bring his body next to hers. Shepard gasped when she felt his erection pressing down against her abdomen, pupils dilating and skin flushing hot.

"I desire you, you infuriating human." He purred into her ear, relishing the bloom of scent he'd triggered. "Will you have me?"

This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen: she'd fantasized about a romantic confession, his warm and loving embrace, a sweet and tentative exploration of one another's bodies. But Garrus was no gallant prince, despite his noble spirit and beautiful soul. He was a fierce predator, a deadly warrior every bit her match. And she sure as hell was no princess waiting to be rescued. His teeth nipped at her jawline, endorphins spiking in her bloodstream in response to the sharp pain. Raw energy uncoiled from the base of her spine, insatiable hunger clouding her mind. Shepard's lips parted in a wicked smile.

"If I were turian… how would I say yes?"

"Show me your throat."

She arched her neck, exposing her vulnerable flesh as he leaned in with teeth bared. When he closed in for the bite, she bucked her hips to break his hold and throw him off. He looked surprised, then very, very pleased as he scrambled to his feet.

"Oh. Was I supposed to be passive?" She feigned innocence, hoping the message wouldn't be lost in translation.

"It's way more fun if you're not."

The circled one another once again, this time with slow, deliberate paces. Shepard had no idea what she was getting herself into, although she'd heard a few rumors about turians over the years. None of that mattered: Garrus wanted her, _really_ wanted her, and she was too far gone with lust to worry about logistics. She brought up her barrier once more: from the look Garrus was giving her and what little she knew of turian mating, this was going to get rough.

She followed his lead: where their earlier fight had been a brawl, this was an elegant ritual, dancing around one another, feinting and parrying, drawing near enough to catch each other's scent before flirtatiously darting away. Gradually the distance between them closed, each trying to throw the other off balance to gain the upper hand. It was alien and exciting all at once, and Shepard's mind raced in fevered speculation of what was to come.

"You're forgetting something, Shepard."

"What's that?"

"I'm stronger than you." He rushed forward, pinning her back against the wall, taking the opportunity to run his hands slowly over her waist, her hips. She cringed as she wondered what he thought of her curves, but his touch was curious and insistent, and his arousal was unmistakable. Attempting to reciprocate, she reached up to unzip his tunic but was thwarted by his talons restraining her wrists.

"You're forgetting something, Garrus. I'm biotic." She froze his arms, grinning as she exposed his thorax, running her nimble fingers along the grooves between his plates, enjoying the delightful noises he made when she teased his sensitive waist.

"Oh… that feels good. I don't know how to touch you. I don't know what you like."

"You, Garrus. Only you," she purred, stroking his fringe and releasing her hold on him. For a moment, she wondered if she'd said too much, but his possessive growl suggested otherwise. She didn't stop him his time when his teeth found her throat, dropping her barrier just enough to give him the pleasure of gaining purchase on her skin. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she returned the bite once he released his, breaking his tough hide with her sharp canines. She had no idea his blood would taste so _good_, sweet and salty: she had no fetish for violence but couldn't hold back. It was more than he could bear: the primal instincts he'd long suppressed demanded satisfaction. If he didn't fuck her now, he'd _die._ He carried Shepard over to her bed, moaning as her tongue lapped at his neck, throwing her onto the mattress and preparing to claim her.

Face down, talons tearing the last shreds of clothing from her body, Shepard had never been so aroused in all her life. Fighting gave their foreplay a dangerous edge, but right now all she wanted was to give herself to him, to succumb to desire and fuck him senseless. She arched her back, parting her legs to make her intentions crystal clear. Rough hands grasped her waist, impossibly delicious heat blossoming as his cock grazed her sex.

"Please, Garrus…"

It seemed impossible: she was so tiny and unprotected compared to a turian female, surely he'd tear her apart. Yet she was shockingly wet, and she was _begging_ him. Commander Shepard, the most feared and respected woman in the known universe, his best friend and inspiration and ever so much more, her bite marks fresh on his throat, was begging him to take her. He looked down, drinking in the sensual angles of her shoulder blades, the points of her spine, the jut of her hip bones. She moaned as his talons traced down her back, and his rational mind was forever silenced.

At last she felt him enter her, the pressure far beyond comfort but not quite painful. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced: in order to accommodate him she had to relax every muscle, surrender completely. She was his, utterly his. He nipped gently at her shoulder, giving her time to adjust to his presence within her before instinct took over the pace of his thrusts. Garrus' first climax was swift and powerful; he barely broke stride as waves of pleasure crashed through him. At once Shepard was relieved: knowing she could satisfy him sexually made her immeasurably happy. She desired him, she pleased him, she loved him… and it was too much, far too much for her to contain, exploding with pure joy as she reached her own climax, crying out shamelessly in ecstasy.

_Spirits_… he'd never imagined it could be like this. He thrust into her, her skin glistening with rubies where he'd marked her, her act of unquestioning submission satisfying his deep craving for dominance. Yet she wasn't passive: her body yielded to him even as she gripped him tighter than he thought possible, beckoning him with passionate cries and eroding his self-control. He wanted to give her everything she needed, wanted to _be_ everything she needed. Her song of pleasure reached crescendo, her spasms surprising him and triggering another forceful orgasm when he realized what he'd done. In the wake of his bliss, long-dormant channels stirred within him: an earthquake building in his loins and demanding release. His body was preparing to spill its seed, not just to fuck her but to _mate_ with her, but that meant… oh… how could he have been so blind?

Shepard decided she must have lied: she knew now that she unequivocally had a turian fetish, that no other man could ever give her such pleasure. Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, his iron grip on her waist softened, his relentless ravaging ceased, and he lay beside her on the mattress, pulling her in to nestle against him. He panted furiously, not the contented sigh of a post-coital haze, but the ragged gasp of a drowning man.

"Garrus… are you okay? Are you having a reaction?"

He laughed, full-throated and open. "Yes, I think I am." Before she could worry, he squeezed her iliac crest and nipped playfully at her cheek. He'd managed to stop himself in time, to prevent the act that would seal their bond and reveal his true emotions. Mind reeling, his body still ached for more.

"You're incredible, Shepard. Absolutely incredible."

"I don't even have words for you, Garrus."

"I never thought I'd say this, but is there any way we can keep going, but slow things down?"

She twisted around to face him, running her hands beneath his fringe. "We can do anything you want, my avenging angel. I'm very versatile, you know."

"Make love to me, Shepard."

She hesitated for a moment: did he really mean 'make love'? Or was it a euphemism for what they'd just been doing? Garrus reached up, gently brushed aside a wayward strand of her hair, and nodded slowly.

She guided him to a seated position, his long legs dangling over the side of the bed. Straddling him, knees on either side of his prominent hips, she sweetly kissed his brow, his nasal ridge, his mouth and mandibles, stroked his scars and nuzzled the wound on his throat. Her breath came naturally in sync with his, energy flowing between them effortlessly this time. Tingling and euphoria came quickly, but she remained firmly grounded in herself as she took in his musky scent, the heat and textures of his plates and skin, the way the light gleamed off his fringe and shone in his ice-blue eyes. Slowly she lowered herself onto him, her gaze locked on his, a moan escaping her throat as he once again took his rightful place inside her. She rocked back and forth, back and forth with movements at first painstakingly small, energy building and building until together they burned so brightly that the fire engulfed them both, setting them aglow in cerulean flames. Her hips were not so restrained now, her sweet grind blossoming into long delicious thrusts.

His eyes spoke of need, his breath of words unsaid. She could feel tension within him, not dark and painful like before, but no less intense. There was only one thing it could mean: he must be ashamed of his desire for her, unforgivable for his kind.

"I'm sorry, Garrus. I only wanted to be with you… I never meant to make you uncomfortable."

"No, my heart, my beautiful valkyrie." His hands were on her hips, guiding her pace and encouraging her not to stop. The insatiable urge was building again: his blood turned to molten lava, his body ached for release, his mind was clear but for one pure thought. He leaned in to touch his brow plates to her forehead, lingering for a moment before speaking again. "You don't understand, you don't know how foolish I've been…"

"I don't care. I want you. I…"

"I love you, Shepard."

What happened next became a blur: to this day she distinctly remembers the feeling of a great barrier giving way, of her heart opening in utter release, finally allowing her to speak the words she'd held back for so long. There was no pain, but the deep bites on her neck and collarbones would take days to heal. There was heat, searing pulsating heat, filling her with warmth and contentment. And there was bliss, indescribable pleasure and pure joy, love and sex and happiness all at once. It was the first of countless nights together, the dawn of a new chapter in their long and arduous journey. Garrus had found his mate, and as for Shepard, suffice it to say the commander had finally met her match.

* * *

**First yin, then yang, and finally balance. Hope you enjoyed it… I'm off to take a nice cold shower, and try to find some less sexy muses (epic T-rated story fail).**

**On a completely separate note: I read today that Bioware reported 80% of Commander Shepards are male. Sigh. So to all the FemSheps (of any gender) and female gamers out there: you are awesome :D**

**Love and bliss to everyone!**


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